


can't sleep (thinking about you)

by natodiangelo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Confessions, Failed Attempts at Confessing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 11:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12629631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natodiangelo/pseuds/natodiangelo
Summary: Prompto doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous. Hands clammy and breaths shaky and heart beating one hundred miles per hour. He reaches one sweaty hand up and adjusts his glasses – pushes them too far into his nose on accident, pulls them down and hopes he didn’t bend the metal.He’s going to do this.If he doesn’t die first, that is.Prompto's trying to ask out the most popular guy in school, but things keep getting in his way.





	can't sleep (thinking about you)

**Author's Note:**

> cheesy aus are my life blood i Had To Do It 
> 
> basically this au is just a normal no prince no magic world where prom is crushin hard on noct and wants to ask him to the school prom 
> 
> more characters will show up later and ill change the tags and rating as things continue

Prompto doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous. Hands clammy and breaths shaky and heart beating one hundred miles per hour. He reaches one sweaty hand up and adjusts his glasses – pushes them too far into his nose on accident, pulls them down and hopes he didn’t bend the metal.

He’s going to do this.

If he doesn’t die first, that is.

His stomach clenches and his chest tightens and _wow,_ he hopes he doesn’t throw up, but even if he does, he’s going to do this.

(Which is a complete lie, he tells himself right after, realizing how gross he would feel if he threw up and look and as much as he’s about to embarrass himself already, he’d rather not absolutely _kill_ himself.)

But.

He pulls himself as tall as he can, pushing out his chest and pretending he feels confident.

“You’ll do fine,” He says to himself quietly. “It’ll go great.”

He heaves in one last breath before opening the bathroom stall and immediately tripping over his feet, landing hard on his hands.

“Are you okay?” Someone asks, except, it’s not _someone_ , because Prompto recognizes that voice _very_ well – it’s the voice of his dreams, the voice that whispers in his ear during class-time fantasies, the voice that’s being directed at him for what he thinks is the first time ever.

“Um.” Prompto says eloquently as he looks up at his four – five? – year long crush’s out stretched hand, dread settling heavy in his stomach. “Y-y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? That was a pretty solid fall.” Deep blue eyes show more concern than Prompto ever thought would be directed at him, and he can feel himself beginning to blush already. He pushes up his glasses again, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake, sitting up on his knees.

“Yeah, happens all the time,” He laughs, partially because it’s true, and partially because his whole plan has now been thrown up in the air and he isn’t good enough at catching to salvage it. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Noctis Lucis Caelum says, eyes glancing one last time over Prompto before he turns away. Prompto’s never been more tempted to throw himself back into the bathroom stall for another thirty minutes, fourth period be damned. Instead, he quickly washes his hands before running to his next class and laying his head on the table.

Prompto likes Noctis. A _lot._ He’s had this crush since middle school – what feels like forever, even though he’s now a senior.

Prompto’s also shy. Most people know him as the nerd who runs the photography club – or, unfortunately, the nerd who trips over himself a lot. Noctis, now, appears to be in the second group.

All day he’s been psyching himself up – all year, really, or for the past five years, depending on how you want to look at it – to ask Noctis out. He’s _tried_ before, of course, but something’s always come up. Like when Prompto accidentally walked into the wall instead of turning the corner, and decided to go home – or when he got “sick” the day of and laid in bed nursing his hurting heart.

This year, though… this year he wanted to _actually_ do it. It was their senior year – his last chance before they all went their separate ways for college or who knows what. And so he was going to.

…But not today.

He thumps his head against the table again. He’d been _so_ ready, before he had fallen. Nervous, of course, always nervous, but with nearly enough bravado that he could _almost_ pass for confident. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

And what luck that Noctis was there in the bathroom at that very moment – Prompto had been planning to just go search him out before lunch ended, ask to talk and pull him off into some secluded corner and empty his heart into the confession.

He’d even talked to Aranea last night, asked for advice and _everything_ …

He huffs out a sad laugh. Maybe the universe is trying to tell him something. Maybe it’s just not meant to be.

That would make sense, of course. Prompto’s not dumb. He’s heard all the rumors about Noctis’ love life – how apparently he has this beautiful, blond girlfriend with an accent, who no one’s ever seen but somehow everyone knows. Or the rumors about Iris Amacitia, a freshmen who’s constantly seen hanging out with him. Or the ones about any number of other stunning women who are much more in Noctis’ league than Prompto.

Not even to mention that Noctis is probably straight.

That thought sends Prompto’s heart falling down through his stomach and landing somewhere around his feet. All this time on a crush, and he isn’t even _attracted_ to guys…

He tries not to think about how hopeless the whole situation is through fourth, and fifth, and sixth, and especially not when he watches Noctis leave the school, heart giving a single, painful _thump_ in his chest.

He sighs as he begins the walk home alone. He knows that he'll be fine by tomorrow, that his temporary dejection will revert back to his usual enthusiasm and he'll begin planning his next attempt.

But that's tomorrow, and so he goes home and allows himself to cry for a while, and indulges himself on some of the chocolate he's got hidden away for times like this, and tries to forget dark hair and blue eyes and smile like the sun.

 

It's a few weeks later that Prompto comes to a realization.

He’s at lunch, travelling the edge of the cafeteria waiting for the lunch line to go down. People are chatting at they walk by, loud and boisterous as teenagers always seem to be. He glances over the decorated walls next to him – posters advertising a school blood drive and after school tutoring; another informing seniors to pay their fines if they want to go to prom-

He stops dead in his tracks. Someone slams into his back, sending him stumbling forward, but he ignores their glares.

_Prom._

It’s – it’s perfect. The perfect opportunity. He could ask Noctis to prom.

For a moment, he imagines the scene: Noctis opening the door to his house to reveal Prompto, dressed to the nines; imagines Noctis in a well fitting suit, looking more handsome than Prompto’s ever seen him with a grin stretched across his face. He imagines him taking Prompto’s hand and them dancing the night away. Perhaps, toward the end of the night, a slow song would be played; perhaps, he would look into Noctis blue, blue eyes and they’d both lean forward, in and in, until their lips touch…

He shakes his head, biting his lip to stop the smile trying to grow. It’s too soon to think about that, he reminds himself. You have to ask him first.

He eats his lunch and heads to class feeling light enough to fly. He’s got to plan this out _perfectly._

Prompto finds himself once against in the math-hall bathroom, staring at the cracked paint and trying to psych himself up. He assumes his power stance: hands on his hips, check out, back straight.

“Don’t worry,” He tells himself, “You’ll do great.”

His stomach is doing something weird and unpleasant and his heart is trying to escape his chest it’s beating so hard but this time… This time feels different. Good. Feels like everything could go right.

He takes care when he steps out of the stall this time, and stays on his feet. Already better than last time. Noctis also isn’t in the bathroom. Not as great, but he hadn’t expected anything else.

Sixth period ended only a few minutes ago, and if he leaves now, he should be able to catch Noctis at the school gate before he leaves.

Prompto finds him easily; the crowds part around him as he walks toward the school gate, an easy target. Prompto follows him for a moment until they’re far enough away that the crowd has thinned before walking up to him.

“Hey, Noctis,” He says, trying not to think of how things could go wrong. Noctis turns around to look at him. He frowns for a moment, before recognition grows on his face.

“Oh, you,” He says, “You’re the one who fell in the bathroom.”

Prompto tries not to cringe, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s, uh- that’s me.” He pauses for a moment, and when Noctis doesn’t say anything, Prompto adds, “Oh, um, my name’s Prompto.”

“I know. Kinda hard to forget some who’s constantly gawking at me.”

This time, Prompto does cringe. “I-I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine,” Noctis says, and the smile he gives makes Prompto’s heart flutter. He gathers his resolve.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” Prompto says. Noctis quirks his eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I wanted to know if-“

Before he can finish, a hand lands on Noctis’ shoulder. Noctis doesn’t even turn around, instead rolling his eyes and saying, “Hey, Gladio.”

Gladio is _huge._ He’s tall with thick arms and short cut dark hair, and though he’s wearing a baggy sweatshirt Prompto can imagine how much muscle he has.

“I thought you had class today,” Noctis asks. He grins down at him.

“Let out early. Iggy asked me to help you home.”

“What, like I can’t handle myself?”

“Not with those scrawny little arms you can’t.” Noctis swings a punch at him, but Gladio deflects it easily. “Won’t get me that easy, princess.”

Prompto’s sure he’s been forgotten at this point. He’s just about to slip away when Gladio sets his eyes on him.

“Hey, who’s this?”

Noctis looks back over at him, as if just remembering he was there. “That’s Prompto.” He blinks. “Oh, yeah, sorry. What did you want to ask me?”

Prompto’s heart drops a little at the reminder. “Oh, uh- it’s, it’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I, um, I gotta go, actually. So, um, see you later?”

He gives what he hopes is a smile before turning away. He thinks he hears Noctis say _see you_ , thinks that Gladio makes some comment, but he can’t bring himself to check.

Well, that was a royal failure, he thinks, shoving his hands into his pocket and bowing his head. He can’t help the disappointment that runs through him. He had felt so _ready_ beforehand, like it was going to go well. Maybe the universe really _does_ have it out against him


End file.
